


coronalingus

by superkawaiifreak



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, M/M, Online Dating, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superkawaiifreak/pseuds/superkawaiifreak
Summary: It means exactly what you think it does. Akuroku Month 2020, AU, online dating.
Relationships: Akuroku, Axel/Roxas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Akuroku Week 2020





	coronalingus

_ [coronalingus] _

* * *

Sometimes Axel rides his bike around Philly and Harleysville and Franconia and Lower Salford and believes that if there were as many radical voters as they were shuttered storefronts that there might be an electoral revolution as bloodless as the 1800 election. The streets have changed in the last four months. Cars dot the landscape here and there, pharmacies empty -- and Axel clenches his jaw, hopelessly aware that if the world were to end, it would be slow and boring and uneventful; people would glance outside from their beds, eyes crusted over from watching the eighth straight episode of some romantic mini-series. He’d be sitting around, probably texting that guy Roxas from Hinge, and what would start as a faint light would escalate to a full-on nuclear flash, bright and white-hot, incinerating the gooey-warm asphalt and all seven seas, mid-wave, alike.

But something happens when we believe we are recovering. The tremendous physical labor cannot fill the apparent insufficiency of our work, so we look at ourselves in the green tint of our plain bathrooms and accept it. We allow the brutal conditions of our beautiful lives to replace the world we once dreamed, and surrender ourselves to the blame we feel when our actions are not enough to propel us into the direction we aspire. 

And then we are given a clever dilemma. We either heal or suppress the wounds, both equally hungry for our inner spiritual resources, and document the particular brand of abnegation necessary for total relinquishment.

Axel wants neither. 

He’s pedaling in the hot sun, distracted by these dogmatic musings, when a car whizzes by him and releases a giant plume of black smoke. Coughing is enemy number one in these dark times; his eyes smart immediately and he brakes in the middle of the overpass when he sees, on the freeway down below, the flattened disk of combusted human flesh and four cars surrounding it. It disturbs him. Frenzied, he shuts his eyes immediately and grips the handlebars tighter, the image glued inside his head. He wills it away, it akin to the vinegary taste of chunky sour milk, and takes off biking when he looks at it for a second time.

Roxas is sitting on the ivy-covered wall when Axel pulls up to his place.

“Roxas,” he pants, “you’re here?”

“Figured I should come over. You’ve mentioned how close we live, like, three times,” he shrugs. “I know how to read between the lines. You mad?”

Axel licks his lip, embarrassed at his profuse sweating, “not at all. Just,” he gets off his bike, helmet loose, “unprepared. Didn’t think this would be how we met."

“Well, I can leave if you want.”

“No, it’s okay, you’ll just have to sit around while I clean up is all. That okay?”

Roxas smiles. “Fine by me. Oh, and before you ask, I was on a walk and saw you leave earlier. That’s how I knew where you lived. I didn’t like, look it up or anything.”

“Oh, geez,” Axel laughs, “that’s a relief. Glad you’re not  _ totally  _ obsessed with me yet.”

“Yeah, alright. Who says we’re even compatible? What if turns out that we hate each other in person?” Roxas follows Axel into his house, who sets his bike against the wall. It’s an open, sunny one-bedroom, decorated in whites and textured fabrics. 

“My sister helped me decorate,” Axel offers, following Roxas’s line of sight. “She’s also in Philly. Center City.”

Roxas nods, intrigued. “Cool. What’s her name?”

“Kairi.”

“Good name.” 

The air droops. Roxas clicks his tongue.

“Uh, you know what? Lemme go shower real quick. Help yourself to anything while you wait. I have wine, sparkling water, and milk.” He realizes how goofy it was to recommend milk to Roxas, but pockets it immediately and takes off to the bathroom, eager to remove his pit-stained shirt.

Roxas wanders over to the kitchen and starts opening all of the cabinets. The shower is quiet, he notices. It’s a fun way to understand the organization of someone’s mind by inspecting their house. Oven mits in the drawer to the left of the stove. Cutlery hangs from one of those expensive magnetic strips. Nothing stands out as especially peculiar, he decides. So the refrigerator falls prey to his voracious gaze, and soon all the drawers are yanked open and he analyzes every container in Axel’s fridge, meticulously checking for the BEST BY dates, trying to discern the preferred flavor of yogurt. 

He finds an open bottle of chardonnay. Pulling it from the shelf, he brings it to his eye level to check for any signs of cloudiness -- on more than one occasion, people had poured him white wine mixed with kombucha, so over the years he had developed a sincere preoccupation with the “purity” of wine. This looks clean though. It is the first moment he’s had in weeks, he realizes, that he’s been alone. What with the shelter-in-place in effect, he had been at home with his brother Sora 24/7. The bottle glugs as he tips it into the glass, giving himself a generous serving. 

“So you’re a California wine guy?”

He’s taken aback by Axel’s silent entrance. Looking up, he notices the four water droplets sticking to Axel’s exposed hip bones and feels it like a knife in his throat. He brings the bottle to his lips immediately and panics when he sees Axel’s expression fall, eyes wide and jumping between Roxas’s untouched wine glass and the bottle he was chugging. 

“That stuff was a gift, so don’t blame me if you’re hungover in ten minutes.”

Roxas robotically takes the bottle from his face, inelegantly swallowing the mouthful of tart wine. “Honestly, I don’t even know. That was so rude, I’m so sorry,” he fills with dread. “Seriously, I just-”

“No worries, Rox. What, you’ve forgotten how to be normal in front of strangers?” Axel chuckles and walks to the cabinets, reaching for a glass, when he says, “let’s not forget that you just showed up at my house on a Wednesday afternoon. Totally unannounced. You’re bold, I get it,” he grins lasciviously, “better not disappoint.”

About to lean into the fake argument, Roxas notices the small smile Axel gives him before taking the wine bottle, and he feels the fight leave his body. “Yeah, you could say that. Bold.”

Axel cocks his head. “Why don’t you tell me more about the daring things you do,” he points to the couch, “over there?”

_ Oh, fuck.  _ Roxas bites his inner cheek. He didn’t expect that Axel would be this hot in person. “Sure thing,” he says nonchalantly.

“So,” Axel places his glass on the coffee table and leans forward, nose just barely infiltrating Roxas’s personal space bubble, “what wild things have you been up to during quarantine? Are you forming antifa cells? Or have you started growing scallions in your windowsill?”

“Very funny,” Roxas rolls his eyes, “to start, I already had herbs in my windowsill before quarantine. My brother is pretty big about that sort of thing. But to answer your question,” he takes a long sip, thinking, “I kinda stole a bunch of PC hardware last week.”

Axel snorts. “You  _ what?” _

“Oh, so you believe me?”

“Whaddya mean? Of course I do. You  _ are  _ telling me the truth,” he feels blood rush to his face as he watches Roxas’s expression darken, “aren’t you?” the last two words come out slowly.

“Oh, Axel, that’s adorable.”

“Ha ha,” he twists a strand of hair, “that’s what I get for being an optimist, I guess. Always the bad guy for believing in the goodness of people.”

Roxas playfully flicks Axel’s nose. “Maybe I’m being too hard on you.”

But Axel is having none of it. “And just what the fuck was that?”

The color drains from Roxas’s face. “What was… what?”

“That,” Axel points to his nose. “I know we’re still getting to know each other, and this is the first time we’ve met in person, but for Christ’s sake, Rox,” he outstretches his arm and touches Roxas’s cheek with the back of his hand, “if you want to touch me, then just touch me. I’m right in front of you.”

Axel sees Roxas tense. He wants to know what he’ll do.

“You’re right in front of me, huh?”

“I am. See?” Axel, his mouth inches away from Roxas, waves at him.

Despite that his nerves screech at him, Roxas moves toward Axel -- but slowly. Axel feels the couch cushions deepen as Roxas’s hands press down on his shoulders. It had been months since he felt the warmth of another body on his. To kiss someone right away, avoiding the awkward lulls, isn't his style. He wants to make Axel feel it -- the rockiness, the burning -- so he holds Axel’s gaze, lets him see how he’s evaluating his face, his neck. Roxas runs his right hand through Axel’s hair and gently palms the back of his neck. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Roxas says lowly. 

Axel runs his hands on the tops of Roxas’s thighs. His hands are cold, Roxas notes, as they make their way up his spine. 

“Thanks. You’re way hotter than I imagined you’d be,” Axel teases, “I thought you were all filters, but nah. Snapchat doesn’t have shit on you. Plus, you seem pretty weird, too, which is a plus in my book.”

Roxas narrows his eyes. “How about you stop with the tough guy shit?”

“Oh, fine,” Axel sighs, a twinkle in his eye, “but only if you make me.”

Kissing Axel is a lot like you’d expect -- heady and electric, exhilarating, sweet -- and Roxas feels the moment blooming into a sacred memory. He kisses Axel thoughtfully, taking in the scent wafting over from his damp hair (something strong and soapy, maybe cucumber) while pressing his pelvis and lower abdomen into Axel’s. When Axel grunts, he grabs the back of Roxas’s knees and pulls him even closer, relishing in the excited heat between their bodies.

Roxas feels Axel’s hand tap on his chest. He pulls back.

“That’s some Chardonnay,” Axel says. He traces circles on Roxas’s back. “Are you good?”

Roxas nods vigorously. “Y-yeah, of course. Are you?”

Axel looks up and scrunches his lips. “I’m alright. I think I’d be better if I had more room, though. To stretch, you know? It ain’t easy,” he puts his arms up exaggeratedly, emphasizing his height, “being so tall and stuff.”

“You don’t say,” Roxas’s heart flutters. “Well, what if we…” he looks around the room, laughing, “you know.”

“Yep. I know.” Axel motions to Roxas, who stands up. “Last one there’s a rotten egg.”

“Like I’d lose to you.”

“Oh, Roxas, you have it all wrong. No one’s going to lose here.”

* * *

  
  



End file.
